


Darkest Before The Dawn

by TheVeganTargaryen



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Basically splits off from canon at the end of Arrow season 3/Flash season 1, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 20:28:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5062954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheVeganTargaryen/pseuds/TheVeganTargaryen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Wear a mask,” he’d told Oliver once.</p><p>That was before he knew how heavy they were.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darkest Before The Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Olivarry Week 2015, Day 6: Hurt/Comfort.
> 
> Takes place in between Arrow season 3-4/Flash seasons 1-2. In this fic, Oliver still left Starling City but alone; he and Felicity did not end up together.

Mornings were the hardest.

Nights were patrols and metahumans and criminals and the seedy underbelly of their cities. Nights were the kinds of tough calls that vigilantes had to make. Nights were their sacrifices—their blood, sweat, and tears left on the streets.

It was easier to rationalize these things from underneath a mask, Barry realized. It was easier to think that they were making a difference, that they were doing the city any good.

But when the sun rose, and he was Barry Allen, and The Flash was a suit locked away in a glass case for safe keeping, he still had to live with his alter ego’s choices.

There were days The Flash—larger than life and more popular than ever in Central City—threatened to overwhelm Barry Allen, to take over.

 _“Wear a mask,”_ he’d told Oliver once.

That was before he knew how heavy they were.

Oliver knew; Oliver had always known. That was probably why he’d high-tailed it out of Starling as soon as he was free from the Land of Bioweapons and Evil Hot-tubs.

He’d learned second-hand, from the remaining members of Team Arrow. From Thea, who’d seemed the most at peace with the decision. From a bitter Diggle and an uncertain Laurel. From Felicity, who Barry had assumed would have gone with him, but he supposed Oliver was right: guys like them really _didn’t_ get the girl.

He wondered if Oliver was finally happy, free from the burden of his double life at last (a year ago, Barry would never have understood how he could have wanted to leave).

He wondered why Oliver didn’t tell him in person.

Maybe he knew Barry wouldn’t have been able to handle hearing it, that even though he claimed he could be a hero that he really wasn’t one. Not after what happened… Maybe Oliver, who was always so subtly perceptive and intelligent that hardly anyone around him realized it, knew what the others didn’t. Knew what Barry did. Knew that it would be better for everyone if Barry stayed away.

Guys like them didn’t get the girl.

Guys like them didn’t get anyone.

And that was why Barry almost dropped dead of shock when one hot, August day, he answered a knock at the door only to find Oliver Queen on the other side.

“What are you doing here?” he blurted out and watched Oliver’s expression falter.

“I just—I wanted…”

“I’m sorry,” Barry amended. “Come in.”

And then Oliver was in his living room. He almost looked too big for the space, too tall, somehow… larger than life. How was it possible that he’d so firmly walked away from his life of heroism, and yet Barry still idolized him as much as ever?

“Your team told me you went off to travel the world,” he said, with more of a hint of bitterness than he would have liked.

Oliver nodded. “I did. I… had to get away for a little. But I was just passing through,” he said, with the air of someone who was trying very hard to pretend to be casual, “and I thought I’d stop by. See a friendly face.”

“Starling City’s not that far.”

“I can’t go back there. Not right now.” He sounded so matter-of-fact about it.

“Why not? At least you cared enough about the people there to tell them you were leaving.” Barry knew it sounded childish, but seeing Oliver? It just brought back all those feelings of inadequacy, like the older man didn’t think he was good enough.

“What? I… Barry, I’m sorry.”

Now it was Barry’s turn to look confused, but a smile pulled at his lips. “Did I just hear Oliver Queen readily give someone an apology?”

Oliver, for his part, laughed, and there was something lighter about him Barry hadn’t noticed before. “Maybe I’ve changed more than I thought.”

“Maybe.”

They took seats on the couch, close enough together that their knees brushed every time one of them shifted, or Oliver leaned forward in the middle of one of his stories from the road, or Barry talked about the latest strange work story. It was nice and easy and…

…completely superficial.

“Your city hasn’t been doing too great with you,” Barry finally said in a complete non-sequitur from Oliver’s story about one of the mountains he’d hiked.

The reaction was instant. Oliver’s entire expression darkened into something that was, sadly, more recognizable. It was the Arrow coming through, and maybe now Barry understood enough why those were two separate people. “I’m not going back.”

“Why not?” Barry pressed. “You help people.”

“No. I get them hurt, and sometimes I’m lucky enough to fix that. But sometimes I’m not.”

He’d struck a chord. Barry looked down at his hands as he answered, “I guess I kind of know how that feels.”

“You’re different than me, Barry. Better. You can be the kind of hero I never could be… that the Arrow never could be.”

Fuck. He sounded so earnest about it, but he didn’t know. He must not have known. “I don’t think so. I… Oliver, I don’t deserve any of this. This city’s got the wrong idea. You’ve got the wrong idea.” And then the entire story was spilling out, more than Barry had talked to anyone for weeks. It was mostly a jumbled mess, but Oliver sat through it, his presence stoic and calming, and somehow it felt better.

It felt nice to have someone who could truly relate.

Maybe it was a good thing Oliver was refusing to go back to Starling City, at least for now. Maybe he’d stay a little. Maybe he’d stay with _him._

When Oliver pulled him in close, wrapping his arms around Barry, he thought maybe it would be appropriate to ask. “I missed you, Oliver,” he admitted, listening to the slow, steady heartbeat under his ear. “A lot.”

“I missed you too, Barry.”

“I think you should stay here for a little.”

“Here on this couch, or here in the city?”

“Both,” Barry answered simply because he hadn’t felt the weight of the world start to lift off his shoulders in so long, and Oliver’s arms wrapped around him was working wonders on that front.

“I think I’d like that. Just… no vigilante stuff.” Barry had been expecting that little caveat. What he hadn’t been expecting was the vehement, broken tone behind it. “After the League, I… I’ve been having enough trouble getting away from what they did to me without going back to that life.”

One day Barry would ask him just what had happened in Nanda Parbat.

But not today.

That was the last thing either of them needed today.

So he nodded against Oliver’s chest, finding and grasping one of Oliver’s rough, callused hands with his own. “It’s a deal.”

Guys like them didn’t get the girls.

But that was all right; they found each other instead.

And the mornings were easier when there was someone to share them with.


End file.
